gigi's lair

MAIN (Social Media AU)

Pairing — Rafe Cameron x Female Reader

Summary — If having a fairytale love story guaranteed a happy ending, then, uh, why are you and Rafe getting a divorce?

Content — angst, marriage in crisis, hurt/comfort, brother's best friend, childhood friends to high school sweethearts to lovers to divorce, drama

NAVIGATION

hea asks –

TABLE OF CONTENT —

Part 01 💍 Part 02 💍 Part 03 💍 Part 04 💍 Part 05

Part 06 💍 Part 07 💍 Part 08 💍 Part 09 💍 Part 10

EXTRAS —

IMPORTANT INFO ABOUT TAGLIST AND UPDATES: if you want to be notified about all my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications! however, if you want to be added to this specific taglist, let me know (but to remain tagged, you must interact with the posts).

a lil something i put together during my lunch break, enjoy 💘

he’s drunk again, the thinking-about-you kind.

his head tilts against the seat of the truck he hasn't driven in months, still parked in the beach house garage, waiting for something that’ll never come back.

pairing: kelce's sister x hockey!rafe warnings: steamy, but no smut; yearning; friends to fwb (requested).

You were doing everything you could to pretend it never happened. 

There was no way you had completely fallen apart on Rafe Cameron’s thigh, right there in a fucking hallway, you hadn’t let him talk you through it, moaned his name like a whore.

You hadn’t seen him since that night.

You caught glimpses across the rink when Kelce asked you to drop your class notes in the locker room; in the dining hall; in passing on campus. You never let your eyes linger for longer than two seconds, afraid that looking would mean acknowledging, which would mean feeling.

You could not afford that. So, you avoided.

You ignored his texts. The first few were easy, casual shit, acting like othing had happened which just gave you even more whiplash.

Rafe: You coming to practice? Rafe: Why the fuck is Mac playing first line? He’s trash. Rafe: You got my charger?

Normal. Fine. But then—

Rafe: Are we okay? Rafe: You ignoring me? Rafe: Princess.

That was the one that had you turning your phone face down, staring at the wall, your stomach twisting into a million little knots.

You had liked Rafe since you were twelve years old.

He was your childhood friend, your brother’s best friend, the one who tied your skates when you were too little to do it yourself. He gave you your first sip of beer even thought you’re practically the same age, let you cry into his hoodie when you bombed your first big test.

This wasn’t some random hook-up. It was him. You overthought it.

Kie was mid-sentence when you saw him from across the street, standing with a few of the guys from the team, laughing about something. Your brain should’ve gone straight to panic, to run, to hide, but all you could do was look.

His stupidly perfect face tilted slightly up, light eyes squinting in the late afternoon sun. His smile, wide and easy, dimples popping, that natural, effortless charm radiating off him.

It wasn’t fair.

Why did he have to look like that? Why did he have to smile like that, as if he hadn’t completely wrecked you and then proceeded to haunt you for four fucking days?

“Oh, look, it’s Rafe!” Kie was raising her hand like she was about to call him over.

Not on your watch, she wasn't.

You didn’t think, your reflexes were fast.

Your hand flew out, clamping over her mouth before she could even think about calling him. She let out a muffled yelp, arms flailing, eyes going wide, but you were already dragging her the other way, you didn’t stop until you were out of sight. Only then did you finally release her, pressing yourself against the wall and trying to get your breathing under control.

Kie ripped your hand off her mouth, eyes bugging.

“Girl, what the fuck was that?!”

You swallowed hard, your brain panicking,

“Nothing,” you croaked.

Kie blinked. “Ohhh, no. No, no, no. That was not nothing.”

She narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms.

“Did you sleep with him?”

Your soul left your body.

“What? No—Kie, what the hell—”

“Then what was that?” She gestured wildly back toward the street. “Why are you acting like he’s Michael Myers?” She squinted at you, analyzing you. “You saw him and ran like he was about to shank you.”

You hesitated. What were you supposed to say? Oh, yeah, I dry-humped my childhood friend in a hallway until I fucking came on his thigh and now I think I might be in love with him, but I can’t deal with that, so I’m pretending he doesn’t exist?

No, absolutely not.

“I—I don’t wanna deal with his bullshit today,” You forced a scoff. “You know how he is.”

“Uh-huh. And what bullshit would that be?”

You scoffed. “The usual.”

She hummed, clearly suspicious, but after a moment, she sighed, shaking her head, “I don’t even wanna know.”

Kie started walking again, and you followed, pretending everything was fine. Your heart was still about to leap from your ass, from the fact that before you started running, before the panic...you’d wanted to cross the street.

You were losing your mind. Every time your phone buzzed, your stomach clenched. If you saw a blond head in the crowd, you went into full fight-or-flight mode. Every time someone so much as mentioned his name, your brain died.

You missed him, which was fucking ridiculous.

You didn’t miss Rafe; your more or less missed the idea of Rafe. The way things used to be. How easy it was before, when he was simply your brother’s best friend, your childhood friend, the hockey captain and campus menace who called you his girlfriend as a joke. Not someone who’d kissed you like he was starving or made you orgasm.

It didn’t matter; you weren’t thinking about it, it wasn’t real, and it was never happening again.

You were so caught up in your downward spiral that you didn’t hear your brother speaking.

“Dude.”

You blinked, realizing you’d been staring at your phone for a solid minute without actually seeing anything.

“Huh? What?”

Kelce raised an eyebrow, his mouth curling.

“I haven’t seen you in like a week. You on some self-imposed exile or shit?”

He was so good at reading you. 

You were stuffing your face with food, “I’m busy, Kelce.”

“Sure, sure. Busy.” He grinned, “You’re too busy to talk to anyone, but not too busy to binge-watch trashy reality shows at 2 AM.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Must be some real important work going on.”

You could feel your face heat up, suppressing the urge to smack him upside the head like your mom used to.

“Shut up. It’s not like I’m getting nothing done, okay?”

Kelce snorted, “Uh-huh. So you’re avoiding me and acting weird because of midterms, huh? Got it. You're pulling a full-on ghosting move on your older brother, huh? Can’t even get a text back. Nice.”

“Dude,” you muttered, shaking your head. “You know that’s not why.”

Kelce raised his eyebrows. “You enjoy being super sketchy for fun now?” He tapped his chin like he was solving some big mystery.

You poked at your food, suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.

He took a bite of his sandwich, then casually said, “Oh, by the way, Cameron asked about you the other day.”

Your fork froze mid-air, and your stomach did that sudden flip like you’d been caught in a lie. You looked up at him with wide eyes, way too startled by the words.

“What?”

“He was asking if you were okay. ‘Is she alright? Been avoiding me.’” He mimicked Rafe’s voice in a perfect, exaggerated tone. “‘Is she mad at me?’”

Did he really ask about you?

You tried to keep your voice from shaking, “Why would he be asking about me?”

“You tell me.”

The big brother look. The “I know all your secrets and will drag them out of you by sheer force of will look.”

You played dumb. 

“How would I know?” You snorted, stabbing at your food. “He’s just being weird.”

Kelce huffed out a laugh.

“Rafe Cameron, king of emotional repression, suddenly real concerned about your well-being for no reason.” He took another bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. “Makes total sense.”

You rolled your eyes. “Maybe he—”

Kelce cut you off. “Did something happen?”

You forced yourself to scowl. “No.”

He tilted his head. “You sure? Because, if something did happen, and you need me to handle it—”

Shit, the protective brother routine was worse than the interrogation. You could already picture it—Kelce storming across campus, making a scene. You had to shut this down immediately.

“No!” you blurted, probably too loud. “Kelce, Jesus. Nothing happened. I—” You struggled for anything to say that would end this conversation. “I don’t know. 

You shoved another bite of food into your mouth to avoid talking. His eyes narrowed, brow furrowing, you could see the exact moment the thought crossed his mind, the way his whole face changed—hell no.

You froze mid-chew.

“Oh hell no,” His voice dropped, like he was speaking something unspeakable. “Did you sleep with Rafe?”

You choked, violently choked. Had to slam your fist against your chest to clear your airway while your brother just sat there, eyes wide, horrified.

“No!” you coughed out, reaching blindly for your drink. “What the fuck, Kelce?”

His whole body slumped in relief.

“Okay. Good.” He exhaled, dragging a hand down his face. “I was about to throw up. Actually, right here, in front of God and everybody.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was pounding. “You’re disgusting.”

“No, you’re disgusting for making me even think that was a possibility!” He shuddered dramatically. “Jesus Christ. I was gonna have to disown you. I can’t have my best friend and my sister—” He cut himself off, physically gagging. “No. Nope. I refuse, it’s bad enough that people already think you two are dating.”

You shoved another bite of food in your mouth so you wouldn’t have to respond. Because technically, you weren’t lying, it wasn’t sex-sex.

Your brother groaned. “Why do you look guilty? Why are you chewing like that? You’re chewing suspiciously.”

You glared. “How the fuck does someone chew suspiciously?”

“Like you have something to hide.” He leaned forward, eyes narrowing further. “What. Happened.”

“Nothing!”

He did not look convinced.

“This is why I don’t talk to you.”

“This is why I question you,” he shot back. “Because you’re being sketchy as fuck.” He paused. “Wait.”

You braced yourself.

“You did do something.” His face twisted in agony. “Oh my God.”

“No, I didn’t—”

Kelce groaned so loud people actually turned to look as he ran both hands over his face, trying to erase the images his brain was conjuring.

“Nope. I don’t wanna know. I actually don’t wanna know.” He stood up so fast his chair scraped against the floor. “You’re on your own. Talk to him."

"What?!"

"Talk. To. Him," he repeated, enunciating each word like he was speaking to an illiterate child. "He’s been playing like shit, and it's your fault."

Your jaw dropped. "My fault?!"

Your brother threw his hands up.

"I don’t even wanna know what you guys did—" He gagged slightly, "Just fix him. I don’t care how." Then he pointed at you again, eyes squeezed shut, blocking out the mental horror movie playing in his head. "As a matter of fact, don’t tell me."

You had spent all night hyping yourself up for this. 

You had gone full motivational speaker in your dorm, pacing back and forth, rehearsed conversations in the mirror, mapped out every possible scenario, prepped yourself for all the ways this could go.

You were not going to keep avoiding him. 

You were going to be a normal, functioning adult, walk up to him, and say… something. What you were going to say was still up for debate, but you were hoping divine inspiration would strike when the time came.

When Kelce asked you to drop off his car keys in the team's locker room the next day, you figured—okay, this was fate, the universe was giving you a chance to finally stop being a coward.

The door swung shut behind you, the heavy scent of cologne and sweat filling the air, but then you heard the door open again. Except the sound wasn’t coming from where you just walked in, it was coming from the showers.

Which meant— 

Rafe was fresh out of the steam, dripping wet, with nothing but a towel slung obscenely low on his hips. Water slid down the hard lines of his chest, down the ridges of his stomach, disappearing beneath the fabric, and you had not rehearsed for this.

He froze mid-step, another towel in his hand, running the other through his damp hair. His gaze locked on you, and his brows furrowed, you stared at him, he stared at you.

Open your mouth and say something, you freak.

You made a sound that was definitely not human, a squeak, maybe, because your brain was melting out of your ears.

Good start.

He took a step closer, his eyes dragging over you, making sure you were actually real.

"You—" He hesitated. "You’re here."

You swallowed hard, trying to remember how to function like a normal human being.

"Kelce’s keys," you blurted, holding them up like they were some kind of protective shield. "He—uh. He needed them. I was—"

"You’ve been avoiding me."

He said it so bluntly, no lead-up, no pretense. 

You swallowed again. "I—"

Rafe raised an eyebrow, then he reached up, stretching slightly as he dried his hair with the towel in his hand, every muscle in his torso flexing, his abs shifting.

Oh my God.

You snapped your eyes to the ceiling, hoping that staring at the water stains above would somehow erase the image now burned into your brain.

"Put some clothes on."

He laughed, deep, smug. It made you want to launch the keys directly at his stupid perfect face.

"What? Thought you weren’t looking at me."

"I’m not!"

"Really?" He took a step closer, and your entire nervous system short-circuited. "You sound flustered.”

You couldn't do this, not in a locker room while he was half-naked and wet and smiling like that. You inhaled sharply, shoved the keys against his stupid bare chest, wondering when you got so close, and immediately turned to flee.

"Wait." His hand wrapped around your wrist before you processed that he’d moved, "Talk to me."

You yanked at your wrist, but he didn’t let go. Your pulse was a thunderstorm in your ears.

“Rafe.”

He shook his head, water droplets falling from his damp hair, sliding down his neck.

"You have been avoiding me,” he murmured, tilting his head, waiting for you to lie.

You inhaled sharply, straightening your spine. 

"No."

His lips twitched, you hated that he knew you were full of shit.

"Right." His voice was slow, “It was a coincidence you suddenly stopped answering my texts? That you ran the second you saw me on the street? That you—” His voice dropped lower, taunting. “—look like you’re about to die standing next to me?”

You clenched your jaw, even though you were one wrong look away from folding like a lawn chair. 

“Don’t be dramatic.”

Rafe’s lips parted, you thought he was gonna call you out again, but then, he hesitated.

You were still close, and neither of you was moving.

The stupid heat in the room was almost suffocating, and you couldn’t tell if it was because of the humid air clinging to his skin or the fact that you were losing a battle you swore you weren’t fighting.

He exhaled through his nose, "Talk to me.”

That plea in his voice...you were going to jump him. How could you look him in the eye and tell him that he’d broken something open in you? That his hands on you had felt too good, that your name on his lips had made you want to do this every day? That you were terrified because this was Rafe, and it had never been like this before?

His body heat soaked into yours, you could smell the clean scent of his soap and the remnants of his cologne. Rafe could see it happening—your breathing, your eyes darting everywhere but at him, your lips parting like you wanted to say something but couldn’t.

You were freaking out.

His hands flexed at his sides. He wanted to touch you, but instead: “Nothing has to change, okay?”

Your breath caught.

“You don’t have to run from me,” he continued, “You don’t have to pretend like it didn’t happen, but—” His jaw tensed, struggling with his words. “If that’s what you need, I’ll do it.” He swallowed hard. “Don’t—don’t shut me out, alrigh'?”

He was making it sound so easy.

It would be so simple to nod, go along with it, pretend like nothing had changed between you, that things could go back to how they were before, you knew better. Because you’d felt it.

'Nothing has to change', liar.

Everything had changed, and you both knew it. You never felt so frustrated with yourself, with your inability to communicate what you were feeling. 

“C’mere,” he murmured, hands around you before you even had the chance to breathe, before your mind could catch up to what your body already knew.

You needed this. You hadn't realized it until then, but you had tears of frustration in your eyes as his hand slid gently around the back of your head.

His thumb brushed over the nape of your neck, voice calmer than it had been before, “What’s wrong?”

Your throat tightened, words failing you, because how were you supposed to explain this? 

“I don’t know.”

You shouldn’t be here, letting him touch you like this. 

“Princess,” he murmured.

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Don’t—”

“Don’t what?” He was so close, his breath warm against your cheek. “Don’t touch you?” His fingers flexed, testing you, “Don’t look at you?” His free hand lifted, tracing the curve of your jaw, “Don’t tell you that you’ve been in my head every second since that night?”

He exhaled sharply, his forehead pressing against yours.

“I don’t know how to be normal about you.” His fingers tightened on your neck, “And I don’t fucking want to.”

Shit shit shit shit.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he confessed, “You’ve been avoiding me, but I can still feel you—” His lips ghosted over your temple, so light it made you shiver. “I can still hear you.”

Oh.

You clenched your fists at your sides, your nails digging into your palms.

“I can’t sleep,” he admitted. “I close my eyes and I see you—” His breath hitched. “I see you like you were that night.”

Your thighs clenched, and Rafe caught it, his lips curving against your skin.

“You feel it too,” he murmured. “Don’t you?”

You wanted to say no, laugh, roll your eyes, but his lips were brushing your jaw, and the sound you made was fucking embarrassing.

Rafe groaned, the sound deep, “Say the word and I’ll back off.”

Say it. Say it. Say it.

He tilted his head pressing his lips to your temple in the softest kiss.

“Just talk to me. Tell me what you need.”

You should have pulled away. Your body moved on instinct, your hands sliding up his stomach, feeling the skin beneath your fingertips. His abs tensed beneath your touch, the way his breath stuttered.

His fingers tightened in your neck.

“Careful,” he breathed, and it sounded like both a warning and a prayer.

You needed to stop, take a step back, and get your shit together, this wasn’t what you were here for. But when you finally looked up at him, when you saw the way his lips were parted, the way his eyes were so open and waiting for you to do something, you knew you were completely, utterly fucked.

“I don’t know what I need.”

Rafe’s eyes dropped to your lips. “No?”

You were so gone.

Your breath hitched as his thumb traced slow patterns on your neck, you tried to think past the horniness, past the way his bare chest was so close you could feel the warmth.

“I—” Your voice wavered, cracking and Rafe, the smug asshole, smirked some more.

“You don’t know what you need,” he repeated, savoring the words, rolling them over his tongue. His finger ghosted over your bottom lip, feather-light, and your entire body tensed. “Let me help."

Your breath was shaky, your pulse pounding so hard you could feel it in your fingertips, "We s-shouldn't do this.”

Rafe inhaled sharply through his nose, "I know.”

Neither of you moved, your fingers still pressed against his stomach.

Your throat was dry. "So...?"

His lips parted, his gaze flickering to your mouth again, “So.”

Your heartbeat was so loud it was drowning out all rational thoughts, but for some godforsaken reason, you decided that now was the time to pretend like you weren’t one wrong move away from losing your mind.

“Uh,” You cleared your throat. “H-how was practice?”

Rafe blinked. “Good.” A beat. “Yeah. Good.”

You nodded. “That’s… good.”

Another beat.

"Did you, uh… did you lift today?" you asked, because apparently your last two brain cells had given up.

Rafe exhaled sharply, he couldn’t believe this was happening. "Yeah."

You nodded again, staring at the very obvious definition of his abs, the evidence, before dragging your eyes back up.

"Cool," you said, voice about an octave too high.

Another pause.

Rafe squinted at you.

"Did you—" He huffed a disbelieving laugh. "Are we seriously talking about my workout right now?"

You swallowed. "I mean, I was making convers—"

"Jesus," he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. 

You were killing him, and yourself, and any chance of pretending like either of you had an ounce of self-control.

“Did you eat today?” you blurted, because you weren’t done being a fucking idiot.

You'd never felt this useless while talking to a man. Words usually came easy but now, when you needed them, they tangled on your tongue.

Men tripped over themselves for you, not the other way around. 

Rafe let out a sharp, incredulous laugh, his hand dropping from his face as he looked at you like you were insane.

“Are you—are you asking me about my meals?”

Your cheeks burned.

Rafe stared at you for half a second. Then he let out a low chuckle, tilting his head back toward the ceiling like he was asking some higher power for strength

.“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

He took a step forward before he even realized he was doing it, his body moving on pure fucking instinct.

“Like you’re two seconds away from letting me ruin you.”

His hand shot up, fingers threading through your shoulders, yanking your head back just enough for him to see it. That look, the fucking look in your eyes that said you were just as far gone, dazed beyond logical thinking.

Then he kissed you.

Your hands fisted into his damp skin, and he groaned into your mouth, swallowing the sound, pressing himself harder against you, until your back hit the lockers with a clang.

You gasped, and he took the opportunity, tongue sliding against yours, deepening the kiss, hands roaming, taking.

His body caged yours in completely, the smell of him, the absolute need pouring off of him like he was burning alive. When you moved, pressing yourself against him, feeling just how fucking hard he was, Rafe swore.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he gritted, forehead dropping against yours, his hands gripping your hips so hard he might leave bruises.

He moaned deep in his chest, vibrating through you, and when you tilted your head, letting him push deeper, letting him taste you properly, he swore again into your mouth. His hands gripped your waist, dragging you flush against him, until his rock-hard cock was pressing against your stomach through the towel barely hanging onto his hips.

You whimpered.

His tongue slid over yours, before pulling back just enough to let spit trail between your lips, his chest rising and falling in ragged gasps. Then—he was right back in it, licking into your mouth like he needed to be inside you, his teeth scraping your bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth, making your head spin.

You were soaked and all he did was kiss you.

Your fingers dug into his bare shoulders, nails raking against his toned skin as he tilted your head back further, palm pressed to your cheek, taking control, deepening the kiss until you were moaning into it, until your thighs were clenching, squeezing, rubbing together for even the slightest bit of friction.

He pulled back to let his forehead fall against yours, breathless, shaking.

“Again,” His fingers flexed against you, physically restraining himself from tearing you apart. “Kiss me again.”

You didn’t even realize you were moving until your lips were back on his, until his mouth was parting against yours like he’d been starving for it. If you weren't so fucking gone you’d find it funny.

His towel slipped lower on his hips.

You gasped, but Rafe didn’t let you go. He deepened the kiss hoping he could erase anything that wasn’t him. His hands dragged over your skin, searing hot even through your clothes, sliding lower—

“Wait,” you managed, your breath shaky as you pulled back, hardly resisting the gravitational force of his body.

Rafe made a sound that was borderline pained, his fingers tightening around your waist before he forced himself to loosen his grip.

His lips were swollen, slick, “What?”

“What if someone comes in?”

His hands were under your thighs, lifting you, your back hitting the lockers again but all you could focus on was him—his body caging you in, his hands clutching your thighs, holding you up like you weighed nothing, once again.

“Couldn’t give less than a fuck.”

He shifted, pressing forward, and you felt him—Oh, you missed him.

“Yeah?” he murmured, rolling his hips against you again, slow, “That feel good, princess?”

You wanted to slap him or cry, but you also wanted to grind down and take more. Your nails raked down his back in response, and Rafe whined, the sound going straight between your legs. 

Your breath hitched as his lips traced the line of your jaw, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin. "Rafe—"

Your voice wavered, but he only hummed in response, his teeth grazing your pulse point before pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss there, pressing you harder against the locker.

You should stop.

"Fuck," you breathed, hating how weak you sounded.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his pupils blown, his lips swollen. His thumb dragged along your jaw before tilting your chin up, forcing your gaze to his.

"We’re okay?” When you didn't respond, his lips brushed yours, the barest hint of a kiss. He tilted his head, his thumb grazing the edge of your bottom lip, watching—waiting. “Tell me.”

A shuddering breath left you. “We’re okay,” you whispered.

“Yeah?” His lips brushed yours, a teasing promise of more. “You’re not gonna run this time?”

You let out a shaky exhale, your hands moving on instinct—fingertips brushing his jaw, tracing the curve of his lips. Rafe’s breathing was uneven, his lips parting at your touch like he was barely holding himself together.

“Tell me.”

Your fingers curled against his jawline, nails scraping lightly against his stubble, “Not running.”

His forehead pressed against yours, and you swore you could feel his heartbeat hammering against your ribs.

“I’d find you anyway.”